Cuts
by VannuroRB
Summary: Username: Yami Posted: 31/10/13 19:43 Doc. type: Text. No. of words: 3,587 Title: Wanna get it out.


Trigger warning: Cutting.

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Cuts~

I don't really know who else to tell this to, and it seems even unlikely that a random person would read this post anyway, but even if one stranger does happen to read this, it'll help me get a few things off my chest anyway. I'm not really sure where to begin, but I suppose I should say a few things about myself, before hurling any kind of story on you.

My name is Yami, and I'm currently seventeen years old. I have a family consisting of my mother, father, and my brother, Atemu, who's two years older than me. I go to high school like everyone else does, I have a good number of friends, and I take after school soccer. I'm probably so normal, that by now you're probably wondering why I'm wasting your time, why did I even need to write such a long and boring post about nothing. As normal as I make out to be, something did happen to me, something I don't think I can quite get over yet. You'll probably think that it's something stupid or silly, and I can agree that to you it might, but it's something that's haunted me for a while.

As I said, I live with a fairly normal life, nothing too extraordinary happened to me. But round about the time I was fourteen, I noticed that something strange was happening to me. I was gaining cuts, all over my body.

They weren't anything too severe to note at the time, they were probably the width of my finger, and had barely cut my skin as it was. What I found peculiar about them though, was the constant, and numerous appearance of them. My hands, arms, feet, legs, chest, face, there wasn't a single place on my body that hadn't been touched by the small cuts. At the time, I thought nothing of it, thinking it was normal. As I said before, soccer is my favourite pastime, and my friends weren't known to be the gentlest of people either. The likely case was that I had either fallen over during practice, or one of my friends was a little too rough on me, and I cut myself that way. I never questioned it too much, and I never bothered to mention it to anyone as well, so for that year I went blissfully unaware.

Then the next year, when I turned fifteen, I began to get freaked out. The cuts were still present, but bigger and a little bit deeper, but that wasn't all that had changed. They weren't in random places over my skin, but were in precise locations now, dangerous locations. My wrists, inner elbow, and neck were where they were present.

Now, before you start thinking to yourself that I'm some sort of cutter, I'm not. I never have, and I never will be. In fact, that kind of stuff really freaks me out, I just can't stand that sort of thing. There was no way that I was putting cuts on myself, especially in those areas too, I wouldn't be able to stand it.

When the cuts became consistent again, I started to panic, and felt that I should tell someone about it. I didn't know how I would explain it, but I wasn't going to beat myself up over it either, I needed some sort of logical answer. The only problem I had was that I didn't know who to tell.

I would've told my friends, but they probably would have thought I was a cutter myself, and dare me to do it in front of them. My parents would have given me the reassuring I wanted, but knowing my parents, they would have also thought I was a cutter and tried to scold me for doing so. So, I settled with my brother, Atemu. Me and Atemu have been close since kids, unlike most sibling relationships, we actually got on. We shared a room, shared our secrets, shared our whole life together. I couldn't have asked for a better brother, and he would listen to me, and tell me the answer I needed to know.

After school one day, I took him up to our bedroom, and told him everything. I told him that I started getting cuts on my arms and neck, and made sure that he knew that I didn't put them there myself, and that I was genuinely scared about how and why they were there. Atemu listened, not interrupting me, and not even pulling an expression as I talked. Once I had finished, he had asked to look at the cuts, so I showed him the cuts I knew were pretty recent. After staring at them deeply for what seemed like forever, Atemu let out a heavy sigh, and sat back on his bed.

"You sure you didn't hurt yourself during soccer or something?" He asked curiously, but annoyingly casual.

"No" I snapped back, rolling the sleeves down, and hiding the cuts again "I would have known for sure, these cuts are coming out of nowhere, what is going on?"

"Are you sure? Soccer's not the safest of sports you know".

"I know they aren't from soccer, why don't you believe me!?"

Atemu gave a shocked expression from the accusation, and pushed himself up to sit normally again "I do believe you Yami" He soothed quietly "I'm just saying, are you absolutely sure it wasn't from soccer, or something else like it? You're always coming home in scratches and bruises, you sure you can be certain?"

I said nothing more, and gave a small nod to agree with him, I wasn't going to change his mind. Deep down though, I knew it wasn't from soccer, or from anything else I did for that matter. The cuts were too precise to be from a fall, and they were constantly red and would not heal, not like the other wounds I sustained from soccer. These cuts were certainly not something I did by accident from a fall, they were purposely made, and that scared me.

With little luck I tried to tell my friends, but as I predicted, my friends failed to see the seriousness of the matter and dared me to cut myself in front of them. I didn't even try to explain it to my parents, I knew they wouldn't listen to me anyway, so I kept quiet about it. I was terrified about what was happening, but I didn't even know where to begin looking for answers, let alone know how to stop it. To my surprise though, my cuts began to heal.

During the end of that year, my cuts had completely healed over, and had faded away like a distant memory. I didn't have to worry anymore, and I couldn't care less for a logical explanation either, I just wanted to pretend the time never happened. My friends brought it up a couple of times, to see if it got a rouse out of me, but I told them that they were immature and left it as that. My body had healed over, and eventually everyone I told forgot about it too, so I did as well.

The next year, I was sixteen, and life was going well for me still. I was doing well in school, and even more so in soccer, I couldn't have been happier. I had forgotten my previous fearful year, treated it like it was a bad dream, and got on with my life. I did briefly wonder if I was ill, and that it had somehow caused my body to produce cuts all over, but it seemed so illogical that I had to laugh at it.

I'm not quite sure how to explain the next part, but I'll try to tell you how I saw it. One night, I went to bed, like usual. But, when I woke up, I was in hospital.

The transition between my bedroom and a hospital had me confused already, as I began to ask myself why I was in a hospital, and why the hell was I the one in the hospital bed. I looked around the room, and I saw my mother sobbing her eyes out, while my father talked to a doctor in private. I had never seen my mother cry so much in my life. She was, quite literally, a waterfall of tears. She was hyperventilating as well, and her whole body trembled like an earthquake, she was clearly distraught about something. Just seeing my mother cry made me want to cry as well, I didn't know why she was crying, but whatever it was brought me to a sobbing state too.

My mother lifted her tear stained face, and when seeing that I had opened my eyes, began gasping incoherent words at me. My father had heard my mother, and looking over his shoulder, saw me awake too. My father rushed to my side, and I almost expected him to start sobbing too, if I hadn't looked at his face. There was nothing but pure hatred on his expression, and it was glaring down at me, I found myself unable to look at him for very long. Sucking in a deep breath, my father began yelling at me.

He was excruciatingly loud, and he didn't care about the doctor telling him to stop, he just kept shouting at me. He screamed and screamed in my ear, and during his yelling, he let out what had happened to me.

Apparently, Atemu had woken up when he heard me, sobbing and muttering to myself, before I cut myself on the wrists. The cuts were deep, and I began to bleed, before passing out altogether. Atemu had gone to warn my parents, who had called for an ambulance, which took me to the hospital to treat me.

I felt sick. There was no way that could have happened, and I tried to tell my father so, hoping he would believe me. But he didn't. And neither did my mother. My father just said I was lying and warned me not to do it again, while my mother managed to control herself, and tried to find out why I would do such a terrible thing. I tried a few more times to tell them that it wasn't me, that I'd have to be possessed to do such a thing, but they weren't hearing it. For all they knew, I was trying to convince them otherwise, so that I could try for a second time. It was pointless for me to even try to argue against them, so I just let them believe what they wanted, hoping that I could explain it to them when they were calmer.

When I was released from hospital, I was taken out of school for a few weeks, and put on suicide watch. For those who don't know, suicide watch is when you're constantly watched, typically by doctors, so you don't try to kill yourself again. For me, the doctors felt that keeping me in the hospital might aggravate or distress me further, so let my family do it under the condition that they kept regular phone calls to the hospital. During most of the day, I was watched by my mum. When school finished, Atemu watched me for a while, and let my mum take a break. And later on in the evening, my father took over, before handing the duty back to Atemu for the night. I was never allowed to do much that could cause me harm—such as handling knives, medicine, and even my bed sheets—and I had tried to avoid baths, or anything of the likes, which would be humiliating. It was a suffocating few weeks, but I tried to remember that it had to end soon, and I could go back to normal life afterwards. But that would prove to be very, very hard to do.

With the constant stress of being watched and restricted with what I could do, I had a hard time sleeping, and would occasionally wake up several times during the night. I didn't do much during those times, too paranoid that I'd wake Atemu or my parents up, so I would lay in my bed and wait until I got tired again. Well, one night, I woke up again. I was rather annoyed by this point, and I was thinking about getting something to eat, since I was a bit hungry at the time. But I ended up holding my breath, and freezing in my bed, as I stared at the darkness around me.

Someone was on top of me.

My heart started to beat relentlessly, and I began to panic about the intruder, as he adjusted himself to have his hands and knees on either side of me. I should have screamed or fought him off me, but I was terrified about what he would do to me if he knew I was awake, but I was even more terrified about what he was planning on doing to me regardless. Was he just checking that I was still asleep? Was he going to murder me? Heck, I began to question whether he was going to rape me or not. And what about Atemu? He was in the bed right next to me, did he not hear the man enter? Or did he do something to my brother beforehand? Before I knew it, I was beginning to shake in my bed, and I knew that he would realise I was awake and strangle me to death. But he didn't.

The person reached down to my arm, and took hold of my hand, lifting it closer to him. I didn't resist at all, I just wanted him to do what he came for, and leave me the hell alone. A searing burning pain split across my wrist, and I wanted to scream and move away from it, but I didn't. I tensed my chest, and chewed on my lip, just waiting for it to all go away. The man set my arm neatly against my side, and turned to my other arm, repeating the same process again. I could feel my blood trickle over my skin, as I was fighting so hard not to make a sound or movement at all. My arms became numbingly painful, and I knew that if I didn't stop the bleeding soon, I'd probably bleed to death.

A car drove by outside, and its headlights filled the room brightly, and I stared at the culprit just as he stared at me.

It was Atemu. Atemu was positioned over my body, a knife coated in my blood in his hand, and a shocked look on his face. I was mortified. I wanted it to be a dream, and when I would wake up, I'd realise how stupid I had been. But the pain coursing through my arms told me it wasn't, and that Atemu really had cut open my wrists.

As the light disappeared, the room went back to black, and I couldn't see my brother anymore. A strange dread went over me, and only grew when I couldn't feel him moving, or hear him breathing. So I witnessed my brother cutting me, what was he planning on doing next? Kill me? I knew that he would have to do something about me, otherwise I would talk, it was the only logical step. So he was going to murder me. He had to, if he wanted to save himself.

Nothing happened for a while, and with a squirt of blood from my wrists, my head felt light and I passed out. That was going to be it. Atemu was either going to let me bleed out, or just upright finish the job while I was unconscious, either way I was unable to save my own life. But I found myself waking up again, and even stranger, I was waking up in a hospital.

My mother was crying even harder this time, and when my parents noticed I was awake, my father went on his rage yet again. Yelling, shouting, not even bellowing could describe how he presented his anger to me. I probably should have listened to it, but I was still numb, and I wanted to know only one thing. I asked my parents where Atemu was, and with a strange look to each other, they told me that he was at home. They said that he was upset to see that I had cut myself while he was asleep, and couldn't even go with me to the hospital, so opted to stay at home.

I knew Atemu had lied, but I just nodded, and accepted it as truth. My parents spent a few more hours with me, before they were ushered out, and I was left to recover. The time I spent in the hospital, I thought a lot about everything, and I thought a lot about my brother. Ever since I noticed I had cuts, Atemu had to be the one doing them, most likely inflicting them on me while I was asleep. It would seem odd that Atemu just happened to do it that once, and it would leave the other times unexplained. But I couldn't figure out why, and why they had turned deadly that year. Was Atemu trying to figure out how much I could take? Was I being experimented on? I couldn't think straight. After all, I had just found out that the brother I loved dearly, was harming me in secret.

When I was released from the hospital, Atemu tried to avoid me and not talk to me as much, but I wasn't going to let it slip away. I kept asking him about that night, I pleaded to know why he would do such a thing, and how far was he planning on taking it. But every time, Atemu brushed my questions away, saying that I was hallucinating or dreaming. I wasn't going to get any answers out of him soon, and after a few more failed attempts, I gave up.

A few days later, Atemu ran away from home. My parents and the police searched high and low for Atemu, but they couldn't find him, no matter how hard they looked. I was immediately blamed for his disappearance, saying that my recent suicide attempts had distressed him, and that he wanted to get away from it. I pretended to agree with them, and in a way, it was partially my fault he left anyway. If I hadn't woken up, if I hadn't seen him, he would probably still be at home with us right now. But I couldn't change that, and my only wish is that wherever my brother is, that he's safe there.

A year has passed, and still, there has been no sign or trace of Atemu. My parents joined one of those missing people communities, but since Atemu is technically an adult now, there's very little they can do to look for him. I want to find Atemu too, but for different reasons. I have so many questions that need answers, and Atemu is the only one who can give them, no doubt about it. I want to know why. Why did he do this to me? I've tried to find out myself, but I can't justify or believe in any of my theories, only Atemu can tell me the real reason. Did he do it to spite me? Did he hate me? I don't recall ever doing anything to make him hate me, but if I did, I want to know and right whatever wrong I made. Or maybe he did it out of pleasure. Maybe he has some sort of weird, sick desire for that kind of thing, and I never noticed. I don't know. And I probably never will. And that hurts me more than anything he ever did to me.

I'm not going to end this by asking you to find my brother for me, or to force an explanation out of you, I'm not going to do that. I just wanted to tell someone about this. I've tried telling my parents this, but with my supposed reputation, they're not going to believe anything I say anytime soon. I just, I just needed to get this out I suppose, to not be treated like a liar or a suicidal maniac. This'll probably get subjected to a lot of hate, or trolls, or someone from my school will know it's me and spread it around. I just feel like, if at least one person reads this, then I can put it behind me and move on. As long as my scars can heal, then I can get through this too, that's what I think anyway.

Uh, not quite sure how to end this. I suppose I'll just say thanks I guess. Thank you.


End file.
